And loved.
“Shall we go sit down?” he asked. “We need to talk.”
“Yes.”
We sat on the sofa. Jordan bent down and picked up my headphones, lifting his eyebrow in a silent question.
“Noise-canceling headphones. I haven’t been sleeping well and I was so tired I thought a nap would help. I put them on to stop hearing the thunder. I must have rolled, and they fell off.”
“Then you heard the door squeak?”
I took a sip of my tea. “Not exactly.” As simply as I could, I explained my strange dream to Jordan. He listened, not interrupting, then rubbed his face.
“You really think Max was telling you I was here? To go to me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I heard the knocking in my sleep and somehow manifested it into the dream.” I shrugged.
He shook his head slowly. “But you think Max was here?”
“I’ve dreamed of him before,” I admitted. I extended my hand, clasping his. “You were right, Jordan. I was being a coward.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. I was upset.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my fingers. “You’re one of the bravest people I know.”
“No, I was scared. I felt so much for you and it worried me. I felt disloyal to Max and the years we spent together. As if they meant so little, I could move on and fall in love with someone else so fast. And the thought of loving you—maybe losing you one day—was too much too handle.”
Tears formed in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. “I thought if I stopped it now, then the pain wouldn’t be too bad. I didn’t think you could mean as much to me as you did. But I was wrong. You were already there in my heart, and it hurt so much.”
I lifted my eyes to his, shocked to see tears glimmering in the depths of his green gaze. “You love me, Sandy?”
“Yes.”
He moved closer, cupping my cheek. “Good. Because I love you right back.”
He leaned his forehead to mine. “I can’t tell you the future, my darling. I can only say this. I’m fifty-nine, in good health, and I plan on being around for the next thirty or, god willing, forty years. And I want to spend those with you. If all we had were five days, five weeks, or five months, I would take it.”
“Jordan,” I sobbed.
“Don’t think about the amount of time we have—none of us knows that—think about how we can live it. We can build a life together. A good one. And dream or ghost, Max was right. This is our story now and how we choose to write it. Write it with me, Sandy. Let’s fill the pages with memories. Our memories.”
I flung my arms around his neck. “Yes.”
Hours later, I was still curled by his side, his arm holding me close. We talked, cleared the air, both of us expressing our fears and our hopes.
“I would prefer not to have Max popping into the rooms as we talk,” he admitted dryly. “That rather freaks me out.”
I had to laugh. “It’s only the occasional dream.” I sighed. “I somehow think he won’t be back.”
“No?” he asked, grazing my forehead with his lips.
“I think he knows his job is done. He can rest, knowing I’m happy. He always wanted me to be happy.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I rested my head back on his shoulder, peering up at him. “You do make me happy.”
“Good.”
“Sandy…” His voice trailed off.
“What?”
“As soon as you’re ready, I want you to sell this house and come live with me in the condo.”
I sat up, shocked. “That’s moving a bit fast, isn’t it?”
I shrugged. “Well, as you pointed out earlier, we aren’t getting any younger. In the meantime, we can furnish it together, making it ours. When you’re ready, you can move in.” He winked. “Hopefully, if I do my job right, soon.”
“How would your kids feel about that?”
He pursed his lips. “I think they would want me to be happy. Gina and Warren are coming soon for a week to help me sort some things and take what they want from the house and what’s in the warehouse. You can meet them, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Have it all planned out, do you?”
He grinned. “That’s my job, you know. I organize and facilitate. Bentley calls me an expert.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Think about it, Sandy. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’ll think about it, or yes, you’ll move in?”
“Both? I just need a little time, Jordan.”
He kissed me. Slowly and sweetly—I felt his adoration and love in that kiss.
“I love you,” he murmured.
It felt so good to hear those words, and to say them back.
“I love you too, Jordan.”
He was smiling as he kissed me again.
Sandy
The music swelled, and everyone chuckled as Van left his spot at the altar, walked down the aisle, and met Liv partway. He kissed her and they walked up the aisle together, with him holding her daughter Samantha—or Mouse, as Van called her—close, and holding Liv’s hand.
Their vows were simple, the ceremony short, no doubt in order to make sure Mouse didn’t get bored and wander off. Van had already bribed her with new sparkly shoes once to get her up the aisle.
I smiled through my tears. They were happy ones, not sad. My smile became wider as a handkerchief was tucked into my hand and Jordan drew me closer. I dabbed at my eyes and dared to glance at him. He was extraordinarily fond of Van and thought of him much like a son. They were good friends, and I knew how excited he was that Van had found a woman as wonderful as Liv. She was perfect for him. Van adored Sammy, and she returned his feelings tenfold. They made a lovely little family.
Jordan was smiling, despite his glistening eyes. I loved the fact that he showed and shared his emotions. He turned his head, meeting my gaze. He lifted his hand and traced one finger down my cheek with an indulgent smile and tilted his head slightly toward the altar. Our eyes held a silent conversation.
That is going to be us—soon.
Slow your roll, Jordan.
Can’t, woman. No time to waste.
I tried not to laugh. As I was discovering, although he had the patience of a saint at work and was known for his meticulous ways, in his personal life, he tended to be more—impatient.
Since he’d shown up at my door on Saturday, I had lost count of the number of “dates” we had actually had. Aside from the office, and our nights, we were together. Lunches were shared in the park daily. Stolen kisses in the kitchen at the office. Flowers, chocolates, and my favorite pastries appeared by my keyboard. Sweet texts arrived at different moments of the day, always making me smile. Every evening, he appeared at my desk.
“Ready to go, my darling?” he would murmur. I would take his hand, and our evening would begin.
A couple of nights, I went to his house, helping him pack and sort. Anna obviously had exquisite taste, and I helped Jordan pick some pieces to go to his new place. A few nights, he came to my place and we cooked dinner, working well together in the kitchen. He was a great cook, especially his seafood pasta—which I loved so much, I made him promise to make me every week.